u s e y o u r h a n d s

The fish is flopping around quite regularly now. It’s both reassuring and disconcerting. On the one hand, it’s great to know that Gus is doing okay and at least has enough energy from the small amount of food that I eat on most days. But I must have been incredibly naive not to think that this whole growing-a-person-in-your-tummy thing would not feel weird. Mostly, it’s weird. Often, it’s painful. But it’s not so bad that I have any regrets, even for a moment. I hope that labor will go as well. i could be so lucky.

It’s not the physical sensations of being pregnant that really unsettle me. It’s wondering what kind of parent I’ll be like. And wondering what kind of kid Gus will be. I know I will try. I know I am smart. I know I will ask for help when I need it. That’s more than a lot of people have on their side — and I hope it’s enough.

On a fun note, this story: After we returned from our Christmas movies and Indian food, Brian and I headed to bed early. For some reason, he sang (what he believed to be) the Kay Jewelers theme song, “Every gift begins with Kay.” It’s “Every kiss begins with Kay,” I say. “Gift doesn’t begin with a k. How does that make sense?” He’s always coming out with stuff like this. It’s endearing. He’ll be a great dad.

I am not a fan of holidays in general and Christmas specifically. Actually, Thanksgiving I like. For the most part. And in the past when I have voiced decided Scrooginess, people have always patted me on the shoulder and said, “Wait until you have children.” But now that I’m about to have children, I’m actually more anti-Christmas than ever.

I know that when our kid is small, if we did have Christmas, I could control how much of the holiday he’s exposed to and shape what he finds meaningful. So maybe I could give him a harvest/moon based Druid holiday experience where we celebrate by talking about garden planning or something. But what about as he gets into school, meets other kids, and maybe watches TV? You can’t avoid the complete oppressiveness of Christmas. Maybe he’ll want a bunch of crap, a tree, carols. It’s tough to explain to a six-year-old about products of value and the virtue of saving — though probably easier to explain why we can’t have a tree (five cats, climbing, mayhem). As much as I don’t want a kid who craves plastic crap, I want even less a child who is a smug weirdo.

I know I need to learn flexibility and patience through this experience of raising a child. But I don’t want to give up the traits I’ve always had: doubt, logic and frugality. Luckily, I have in-laws who aren’t crazy Christmas people and I have a community of friends who are pretty understanding.

On my birthday, I had the big “Is the baby ok and by the way, what is it?” ultrasound. He’s fine. And he is a he. At first, I was a bit — disappointed is not the word — apprehensive about having a boy. How do I raise a boy? I don’t like boy stuff. Boys are hard to talk to.

But over the past few weeks, I’ve really warmed to the idea of having a boy. I won’t have to deal with any overtly gender-identified toys (except for maybe guns, which he’ll have to make himself). Recently, I saw an ad for the Easy-Bake Oven refashioned into a pink, girl-centric, “Cupcake Station.” I actually have an ’80s-era Easy-Bake Oven in my closet. The packaging is brown and features a boy AND a girl. Even bikes come in either black-and-red or Hannah Montana.

Mostly, though, I’m warming to the thought of not having to deal with “girl drama.” While I’m sure raising a boy will present its own set of challenges, it’s hard to be a girl. And instead of having to think about frenemies and how it is you put tights on a baby, I’m just going to focus on raising a kind, thoughtful, active little boy.

In four or so more months.